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6 V 

1 will tell you how 1 feel. 

And why I am in pain; 
If I for aid to you appeal. 

1 feel I should explain. 

For these facts you're apt to ask, 
I'll answer: In the mine, 

It was while working at my task; 
I almost broke my spine. 

I used to labor like a Turk, 
But if I should look droll, 

It is because I cannot work, 
I cannot now dig coal. 

I cannot earn a living wage, 
For trades I have no other; 

I sure deserve your patronage. 
Please aid and help a brother. 

At times my back and hip will ache, 
I have such shooting pains; 

My back at times will almost break, 
About the time it rains. 

You know not what your fate will be, 

This fact you cannot tell; 
Oh, my dear friends, remember me, 

When I've a book to sell. 

Another fact I must not skip, 

I must not pass it by; 
I also have a fractured hip, 

This fact I can't deny. 

At times I'm in such awful pain, 

It hurts me then to move; 
And if you'd ask me to explain, 

These statements I can prove. 

If you my work should get to see. 

Please help the man who tries; 
And if you are a friend to me; 

My book you'll advertise. 

After you have had a look, 

There's nothing could be finer; 

Than to have you buy a book, 
From this poor injured miner. 

— By Sankey Francis, Springfield, 111. 







The birds will seek a warmer clime. 

The bees will hunt their honey; 
The poet strives to write in rhyme, 

And the people strive for money; 
The man that runs the taxi-cab, 

The plow-man and the scholar; 
You'll find that they are there to grab, 

That great almighty dollar. 

— By Sankey Francis. 

(By Sankey Francis, April 20, 1922, for A. E. Nissen.) 

I'm called on for an undertaking 

That's before our eyes today; 
It's regarding a trunk road making, 

The International Peace Highway. 

This great road, when first begun. 

Was the vision of a man named Snow; 

And they say that it will run, 
From Canada to Mexico. 

This most famed Missourian 

Is an enterprising gent; 
And is doing all he can 

For he's now its President. 

This worthy project cannot fail, 

For to all it sure appeals; 
And you know this splendid trail 

Will be great for Automobiles. 

I hail this project with delight. 

For this road will have its stations, 

Its entire length, and will unite 

These three great neighbor nations. 

There's nothing ever was so grand. 
That could be accomplished here; 

Of benefit throughout our land 
And in the Western Hemisphere. 

In this we should not hesitate. 

For it will reimburse, 
And it will be up-to-date 

For all traffic and commerce. 

Let's put our shoulder to the wheel 
And by our efforts push and shove; 

For this great enterprise I feel 
Will create more brotherlv love. 

OCT 30 1922 

This great thought it will impart, 
That all hate should disappear; 

The malice felt within our heart, 
For the so-called foreigner. 

A man of vision named Estey Smith. 

From the State of Ohio; 
Did his share and labored with 

These great men like Mr. Snow. 

When we're out on our vacations 
These four colors will be seen; 

Representing all three nations, 

Red, and Blue, and White, and Green. 

These markers will arouse good feeling, 

As no other emblem can; 
And encourage more fair dealing, 

With our foreign fellow man. 

It will make our Country brighter, 
And be filled with great renown; 

And the farmer's load much lighter 
When he hauls his grain to town. 

Along his route the farmer sees. 
As he hauls his corn and hay; 

Millions of those leafy trees 

Along our cherished Peace Highway. 

My good people you'll be wiser 
It will pay you now to listen 

To this highway organizer, 

My friend and comrade, A. E. Nissen. 

You will be convinced, no doubt. 

When you hear what he will say; 
That we cannot do without 

The International Peace Highway. 


When that cruel war did start 
England's sons she freely gave, 

They said we'll gladly do our part 
For this gallant world to save. 

They said it now is plainly seen 

Another foe behind us lurks 
We'll now march on to Palestine, 

For boys, we'll have to whip the Turks. 

So they marched oft with drum and fife 
It's sad to read how history tells 

How many of them lest their life 
While fighting at the Dardanelles.- 

They said we're not defeated yet 
Sir Hughes force was awful grim 

He said we'll use the bayonet 
For we must take Jerusalem. 

Infidels, oh what a pity! 

We can hear our Savior's call; 
We will take the Holy City. 

Or will die within its wall. 

God Himself you have offended; 

Cruel Turks now one and all 
Your cruel reign right here is ended 

Said the hand upon the wall. 

When the Holy City fell 

And the British host marched in, 
They were met and treated well 

By the mayor and his men. 

General Allenby's proclamation 

Was then read from David's tower: 

'My troops now have occupation, 
We will now assume full power." 

They said: "Just for the love of Him 
Who years ago it's streets had trod 

We won't molest Jerusalem 
But leave it sacred to our God." 


My dear friends, we all remember 

On a cold and bitter morn 
The twenty-fifth of old December 

Was the day that Christ was born. 

It is kept to honor Jesus; 

We must please our girls and boys; 
If we don't it sure would grieve us; 

Buy them candy, nuts and toys. 

How well I love old Santa Claus, 

The kindest man I ever knew; 
He's working in a splendid cause 

When he slides down the chimney flue. 

Children now hang up your hose 
For nice things with them he'll fill, 

And if you hear him I suppose 
You will know you must be still. 

On that morn they soon will rise 

And look for things they long have sought, 
And now we see their little eyes 

Just look what Santa Claus has brought. 

He's brought all that he could pack, 
A pair of boots that's painted red, 

Candy, nuts and cracker-jack 
And a pretty little sled. 

Dear Santa spends some pretty sums. 

It almost makes us drop a tear 
To think, dear friends, he only comes 

To see us only once a year. 

He travels out amid the storm, 

It seems to us that he would freeze, 

Altho he's wrapped up snug and warm 
For he must these dear children please. 

And now we hear those Christmas bells 
And all the people now are gay 

For their music plainly tells 
This is a legal holiday. 

We celebrate our Saviour's birth, 

It is a day most dear to us 
I cannot tell you of its worth 

God bless our Merry Christmas. 


I now will write of winter time 

When we can go a skating 
This pleasure now is quite sublime. 

We've long been contemplating. 

Since this is so and now we know 

To climb within the sleigh; 
And in the snow away we go 

And everybody's gay. 

Our team has cost a pretty sum. 

We're proud of our resources; 
And now we're proud the time has come 

For hitching up the horses. 

And down the road we swiftly ride, 
We're sheltered from the storm; 

Besides our furs we're well supplied 
With blankets, snug and warm. 

In winter time we also learn, 
As round the hearth we gather: 

It takes a lot of coal to burn 
In this cold freezing weather. 

The ice is freezing on the trees; 

It's just as 1 had guessed; 
You'll find the eggs are sure to freeze, 

If left, within the nest. 


And now we hear the wind's low moan 
We're warned by weather's wizard; 

It seems we're in the frigid zone, 
For now we have a blizzard. 

And now we see the sky is bleak; 

Dark clouds begin to form ; 
And now we quickly try to seek 

A shelter snug and warm. 

And now we get a true report — 
The cold has done much harm. 

We hear that stock of every sort 
Has perished in the storm. 

This fearful cold I can't explain, 
There's no one else who-can 

Unless this snow and sleet and rain 
Is part of God's great plan. 


I have chosen for my theme 

And will without delay; 
Deal with facts that are supreme, 

Within our minds today. 

The theme that comes within my scope, 

It almost stirs my blood; 
It deals with that great catastrophe, 

The awful Beardstown flood. 

Amid that dreadful rain and cold. 

Before the levee burst; 
Its population then was told, 

They might expect the worst. 

They saw the river's rapid rise, 

The angry torrent rolled; 
'Seek higher ground!" were now their cries, 

'The levee cannot hold." 

This fearful news we did accept, 

On (hat sad April day; 
The torrent on them now was swept. 

The river has full sway. 

Their fortitude was surely tried. 

Amid such awful trials; 
The river now is very wide. 

Its width is eighteen miles. 

'Twas then we heard their sad appeal, 

Their cry of deep distress; 
When they did this fact reveal. 

We offer -i quick redress. 

Before their first appeal was made. 

The "Army of Salvation" 
Hurried forth to give their aid, 

And worked without cessation. 

They responded to their wish, 
From duty would not swerve; 

Distributing two tons of fish, 
For they were theirs to serve. 

They responded to the call. 

Amid this ruin and wreck; 
And, dear friends, this isn't all. 

They sent a good-sized check. 

'Oh, will you aid in our distress, 

Please help your neighboring City;" 

When this was heard, we must confess 
Our hearts were moved to pity. 

Send your contributions in, 
Your efforts God will crown; 

Let us prove that we are men, 
And help this stricken town. 

Let us now make no delay. 

And help them in their sorrow : 

For their sad distress today, 

May become your own tomorrow. 

Their need most everybody knows, 
Have you some funds to spare? 

Now I will say, just as I close, 
Go in and do your share. 


I will tell you how I feel. 

There's nothing better I have found. 
I will now make my appeal 

For the miner underground. 

He leaves home at early morn 
When his dinner pail is filled; 

Sometimes he's feeling quite forlorn, 
He thinks perhaps he may be killed. 

My dear friends, I for him feel; 

In the dangers lurking there. 
A cold lunch his only meal, 

Consumed in that foul-smelling air. 

Oft you hear that one is killed 
While toiling for his daily wage; 

That poor heart's forever stilled. 
He'll never mining more engage. 


Some ones think he makes big money, 
Some his job would like to seek; 

But they'll find it isn't funny 
On about two days a week. 

One reason that he's generally poor 
He's always ready with redress, 

And he's always doing more 
For those ones in dire distress. 

The public must not be misled; 

All we ask, dear brother, trust us; 
For we have so often said 

All we want is simply justice. 

If you think that he is wrong, 
And you would this man abuse, 

Will you just please come along 

And place your feet within his shoes. 

We ought to give him our applause, 
And you may tell this to your neighbor, 

If we want to win our cause 
We must firmly stand for labor. 

Anyone with common sense 

Can't deny this if they try; 
I stand firm for his defense 

For he's as good as you or I. 


When the buds at first are seen, 

And the birds begin to sing, 
And the grass is turning green; 

Then we know it's coming spring. 

Then the frogs begin to croak, 
Down about the meadow pond; 

They their bodies there will soak, 
For they for water are so fond. 

The sun's up early in the morn, 
For in the early month of May, 

The farmer plans to plant his corn; 
All nature now is bright and gay. 

Tlie women then take up their pail. 

You'll pretty soon know what this means, 

For you know they'll never fail, 

To take a walk to hunt some greens. 

The weather now is up to date, 

Here's the pleasure you've been wishing; 
Get your spade and dig some bait, 

For we boys are going fishing. 

The farmer's work now gets behind, 
And I will now tell you the reason; 

For you, dear friend, must bear in mind, 
That this is now the rainy season. 

Another pest is the old blue jay. 

The way he does it often worries; 
It is a real shame the way, 

That bird eats up the farmer's cherries. 

The farmer now surveys his corn, 

His face now wears a scowl and frown, 

And he is looking quite forlorn. 
For the cut worms cut it down. 

He will have to plant it over, 

That is now a sure thing; 
When he should be cutting clover, 

That's what happens in the spring. 


These few lines have been demanded 

In old Massachusetts Bay 
Is where our noble Pilgrims landed 

Is why we keep Thanksgiving Day. 

They traveled up and down the bay 

Looking for a place to dock 
Then they landed, so they say. 

At a place called Plymouth Rock. 

Their wants went far beyond their power, 
For their sufferings were severe 

In their little ship Mayflower 
When at first they landed here. 

If you'll think you will remember 

This small band, though brave and bold, 

Landed in old cold December; 

The weather then was bitter cold. 

This place they'd hardly occupied — . 

I know these words will quite amaze, 
For nearly half the pilgrim's died 

Before the end of ninety days. 

They had lived there pretty long 
Before an Indian they had met 

Then they say one came along 
And said his name was Samoset. 

The Golden Rule was their delight. 

They had no thought 'of any fears; 
The Indians there were treated right. 

And they were friends for fifty years. 

They took for this, their last abode: 
They'd traveled far across the seas, 

They came so -they could worship God 
And worship Him, just as they pleased. 


There's no other to accept, 

So eat your turkey and be gay, 

So that is why this day is kept; 
We'll worship on Thanksgiving Day. 


I think that I will make a book, 

As I some praise have won; 
The people then can have a look, 

And see what I have done. 

I do not claim my work is great, 

And would not if I could; 
I'll say this much, at any rate, 

There's some can't do as good. 

Some my work are apt to slight. 

While others it will thrill; 
If you don't care for what I write, 

The other fellow will. 

I write my poems like other men, 
Of whom I've read and heard; 

I just go and take my pen, 
And warble like a bird. 

In this work I take delight, 
With practice one soon learns; 

And with patience learn to write, 
And rhyme like Robert Burns. 

I have never been to jail. 

Or to the Legislature; 
But in this work I cannot fail, 

It's just part of my nature. 

As sure as there's a universe, 
As sure as church bells chime; 

It seems I cannot write one verse, 
Without I write in rhyme. 

They can take my book of poems. 
And read them at their leisure; 

And when it's placed within their homes, 
They'll find it lots of pleasure. 

They'll find there's nothing low or mean, 

My poems are written well; 
I feel when once my book is seen, 

That it will surely sell. 

Now if you have a few spare dimes, 

Dear friends, to you I plead; 
Invest them in my book of rhymes, 

They are just what you need. 



Far out in the Golden West 

Our gallant soldiers, brave and true, 
Fought those Indians we detest, 

Those terrible Indians called the Sioux. 

Far out on the rolling plain 

Our flag the stars and stripes was bourne 
And there all Custer's band was slain 

At the Battle of Big Horn. 

On that splendid Sabbath morn 

On that river, so we learned, 
They fought the Battle of Big Horn 

From which no soldier e'er returned. 

Amid that awful savage yell, 

The saddest death, the one abhorred, 
Was when the noble Custer fell, 

The only man that used a sword. 

Custer's men rode forth to die, 

For the Indians got between 
Those troops on whom they did rely. 

Led by Reno and Benteen. 

Pretty soon all hope had flown. 

For they were fighting hand to hand; 

The field was soon with corpses strewn 
Of Custer's gallant little band. 

Reno looked upon the scene, 

Not a gallant soul survives; 
He turned around and told Benteen, 

"We'll wait till other troops arrives." 

It was there for help they prayed 

And troops were sent from way afar; 

For they were coming to their aid. 
Led by our gallant General Karr. 

Another deed must be fulfilled 

And this our soldiers plainly knew; 

Old Sitting Bull was caught and killed 
And our war ended with the Sioux. 


The prettiest woman ever seen 
I saw last Wednesday morning. 

She had the features of a queen. 
Her beauty was adorning. 

She had a sweet and noble brow: 
I'd like to call her Betty: 

I really looked and wondered how 
The Lord made one so pretty. 


I thought that pretty soon I will 
Leave this train and miss her; 

I'd really give a dollar bill 
To even get to kiss her. 

I thought I'd really like to be 

Admitted to her charms; 
I'd like to take her on my knee 

And squeeze her in my arms. 

When I looked upon her charm 

I didn't need assistance. 
For I don't think it's any harm 

To love them at a distance. 

On the last one glance I took, 

For not a man would fail, 
And if she would not have me look 

She'll have to wear a veil. 

I looked at her, my soul it yearned, 

And then to my surprise 
Upon me then she sweetly turned 

A pair of deep blue eyes. 

I thought, "Dear girl, I'll bid adieu; 

At Pana we will part, 
But I will always think of you, 

For you have stole my heart." 

I know you'll say that I am struck; 

It very seldom chances 
That anybody has such luck 

As Mr. Sankey Francis. 


On the farm at early morn 
We hear the chickens crowing; 

All kind of fowls the place adorn, 
We hear the cattle lowing. 

In the barn the horses neigh 

And to this we should take heed; 

They're calling for their corn and hay. 
The cows and chickens want their feed. 

The mother hen walks round and clucks 
For her chicks she's very fond, 

And now we see those naughty ducks 
Muddying up the meadow pond. 

And here we see a little calf. 

He'll run up close to us and stare; 

We look at him and have to laugh 
To see him running everywhere. 


We also see a team of mules 

And in all kind of weather 
We quickly learn them all the rules 

And make them work together. 

We also see a flock of geese. 

Although this quite annoys; 
We'd like sometime to have some peace, 

They keep up such a noise. 

When the evening's work is done 

The little children begs 
That they may be allowed to run 

And gather in the eggs. 

Now we see the milking maid; 

She'll milk the cows now one by one, 
But she finds that one has strayed; 

She must go get her before it's done. 

The cows of course will gently bawl, 
For they are hungry for their bran; 

The calves are put within their stall, 
They'll get together if they can. 

I have now described the scene, 
I've give this subject due regard; 

You have some idea what I mean 
And what we see in the barn-yard. 


They tell me that Salvation's free. 

Just give me a little bit more; 
In this the Christians all agree. 

Just give me a little bit more. 

To go on through I sure intend, 
For He will be my Lord and friend 
If I will serve Him to the end; 
Just give me a little bit more. 

They tell me that He sends His love, 
Just give me a little bit more; 

It comes direct from Heaven above, 
Just give me a little bit more. 

There we'll be assigned a place, 
And taste the goodness of His grace, 
And get to view His smiling face; 
Just give me a little bit more. 

They tell me that my pardon's sure, 
Just give me a little bit more; 

And that His blood will make me pure. 
Just give me a little bit more. 

If Ave will our sins confess, 
And to His plea just answer yes. 
He then our Soul is sure to bless: 
Just give me a little bit more. 


I need Thee now, most gracious Lord, 
Just give me a little bit more; 

O may not I from Thee be barred. 
Just give me a little bit more. 

Now Lord, on me Thy Love bestow, 
For with Thy Love then I will know, 
Thy precious blood for me did flow; 
Just give me a little bit more. 

Thou art our Lord, Thou precious Lamb, 
Just give me a little bit more; 

O take me now just as I am, 
Just give me a little bit more. 

O give me now Thy hand to hold. 
And take me in Thy precious fold. 
And pass me through those gates of gold; 
I don't want anything more. 

O let me dwell with Thee on high, 

I don't want anything more; 
O let me to Thy bosom fly. 

I don't want anything more. 

Precious Saviour, Lord divine, 
O let Thy light now on me shine, 
And when I know that thou art mine; 
I don't want anything more. 


I wander all around the world 

With people's insults on me hurled; 

And while I am thinking of my sad plight 

I see approaching the shades of night. 

I do as I often have done before, 

I go and rap on that farm house door; 

We have no room for a bum said she. 

1 sometime wonder who cares for me. 

I have for a lodging no money to pay. 

And am plainly told to go on my way. 

And while hunger at my stomach does gnaw, 

I have for a bed a small pile of straw; 

And although 1 am not by no means snug and warm, 

At least I am sheltered from out of the Istorm, 

There's no one I've wronged and I never will see 

Why it is that nobody cares for me. 

I know while others are enjoying great wealth. 
That I through exposure have injured my health; 
I just got a wetting, got drenched with the rain 
And in my right side I am feeling great pain; 
I go and tell them I am worried and sick, 
All the sympathy I get is a curse and a kick; 
As long as I live I guess this will be. 
Oh. say! If there's anyone cares for me. 


I find that I am getting more steadily worse 
To get well I must have an awful good nurse; 
Then I am told by the Doctor that sounds like a knell: 
'Dear sir, don't be frightened; you cannot get well." 
I tell him I'm ready, my path is not marred, 
1*11 give up this life for a home with the Lord 
For up there with Jesus I ever will be; 
I no longer wonder who cares for me. 

It seems I hear calling 

A voice from afar 
Saying Come, enter in, 

For the gates are ajar. 
Come, leave all your sorrow, 

All sickness and pain, 
And help the bright Angels 

Sing that sweet refrain. 

Come, be with the Angels and help them sing 
Glory to Jesus, I'm a child of a king. 
And there from all sorrow my soul will be free 
I've now found a Saviour that cares for me. 


Salvation! What a glorious word. 
When to the soul once it is given; 

The sweetest blessing ever heard, 
It opens wide the gates of Heaven. 

Shout the tidings of Salvation 

O'er the earth the anthem rolls; 
Spread it over all creation, 

Praise the Lord for saving souls. 

It is so grand to know and feel, 

When Christians meet in sweet accord; 
And there all souls devoutly kneel, 

And ask sweet blessings from the Lord. 

It is so grand to enter there, 

Where there's no pain, or sin, or sorrow; 
And there his blessings sweetly share, 

O, do not wait until tomorrow. 

Come, poor sinner, kneel and pray, 
Before you're put beneath the sod; 

Come tonight, and don't delay, 

Prepare yourself to meet your God. 

It is so sweet to enter in, 

When all life's cares are left behind, 
And be forgiven of all sin, 

And naught but happiness there to find. 


Thou hast said unto the weary: 

"Come to me I'll give thee rest." 
Leave the road that's dark and dreary, 
And be admitted with the blest. 

Precious Savior, Heavenly dove. 

Prepare a home for us on high: 
Give us fountains of Thy love, 

And take us there when e'er we die. 

Oh, how sweet to join the throng, 

And wear a royal diadem. 
And hear the Angel's sweetest song, 

About the new Jerusalem! 

Keep your lamps trimmed and burning, 

Be prepared His face to see; 
Teach us, Lord, and keep us learning, 

Of the Lamb of Galilee. 

When all life's cares on earth is done, 
And from its burdens I'll be free, 

And* have a home in Glory won, 
Let me hide myself in Thee. 


I know I'm nothing but a sot, 

The truth to you I'll give; 
For I know that I have not. 

Many more days to live. 

My friends had whiskey, beer and rum, 
And what they call "home brewing." 

This curse has made of me a bum 
And been my great undoing. 

In early days I had a wife, 

And she was kind to me, 
Until I'd start some family strife, 

When I'd get on a spree. 

She would always do my will, 

No kindness would refuse; 
But I would always treat her ill. 

When I got full of booze. 

I'd want to get in some dispute, 

I ponder now and think; 
A man's not much more than a brute, 

When he is full of drink. 

I had a darling little boy, 

I also did neglect, 
Who was his father's pride and joy, 

Before my home was wrecked. 


But now my little son is dead, 

He pretty soon did learn, 
When I'd leave home, to watch with dread, 

The drunkard's sad return. 

I know the night before he died. 

That I had drunk some gin; 
He gently called me to his side, 

To talk to Little Ben. 

'O papa, dear, I have no shoes," 

These words he faintly said, 
'O papa, do not buy that booze, 

When Bennie cries for bread." 

His little face remained the same, 
And in death's grip still smiled; 

It was that night the Angels came, 
And took the drunkard's child. 

When far advanced the hours of night, 

I now will make admission; 
I'd be brought home a sorry sight, 

In a stewed up condition. 

O give me back my darling bride! 

O give me back my mate! 
And in response a voice replied: 
"Your cry is heard too late. 

'Your wretched life on earth is spent, 

With Satan there is room; 
Just take a seat and be content. 

And there await your doom." 

To hell the drunkard now must go, 

A warning you was given; 
The Bible says, that there is no 

Reward for you in Heaven. 

O my dear friends, take my advice, 

Do stop awhile and think; 
You can't afford to pay that price, 

Please stay away from drink. 

Think of this home that was destroyed, 

And think of this lost Soul; 
O then try and this curse avoid, 

This curse, the deadly bowl. 


I dreamed last night of Heavenly bliss, 
The dream, dear reader, I had was this; 
I dreamed last night of a maiden fair, 
With deep blue eyes and golden hair. 


I never saw a girl so grand, 
When I looked I felt my heart expand 
With pride and pleasure and gratitude, 
These beautiful thoughts my mind pursued. 

She was not caring about the styles, 
But her beautiful face was wreathed in smiles; 
She was dressed quite comely and looking neat, 
Never was a girl to me so sweet. 

As she walked about she would look at me, 
And by her actions I could plainly see 
That she looked on me as the best of men, 
And thought me an honor for her to win. 

A girl like that with a loving heart, 
I there and then let my soul impart; 
Those loving words I had in store, 
To the beautiful girl I'd learned to adore. 

And while we were sitting and spooning together, 
My heart within me seemed light as a feather; 
And there in those moments I did not miss, 
To give my darling a hug and a kiss; 

It seemed that my wants were now all supplied, 
For now we were married and she was my bride; 
And now through life's journey we both were to go, 
And each on the other our love to bestow. 

The stars were all shining for me overhead, 
As she sat beside me and whispering said: 
"My love before Heaven I sure intend 
To ever be faithful and true to the end. 

And when in death's portals we then have to part, 
To my grave I will carry thy love in my heart; 
And perhaps it may be I have gone on before, 
I pray we may meet on that beautiful shore." 

I seemed on the portals of Heavenly shrine. 
She sat close beside me, her hands were in mine; 
Her pretty eyes on me with love on me beam, 
I awoke with a start; it was only a dream. 


Now it gets extremely hot 
And long before the crop is made 

You're soon convinced that you have got 
To try and hunt the cooling shade. 

In the road there's lots of dust, 

The hot wind's coming from the south, 
You view the scene in great disgust, 
You think there's going to be a drouth. 


The farmer works amidst the showers, 
It's from his crops he gets his money, 

While the bees are on the flowers 
Working hard to make their honey. 

It is now the month of June, 
And we begin to feel the heat, 

And the farmer pretty soon 
Will be busy cutting wheat. 

When the harvest time has come 
He climbs upon the binder's seat; 

He'll have to rest his horses some 
Or they cannot stand the heat. 

And now we'll go and take a bath 

And with joy we all respond, 
For through the woods you'll find the path 

Leading to the meadow pond. 

The summer season now appears 
When we pick berries by the gallons 

We have green beans and roasting ears 
And some splendid watermelons 

Soon the women will be picking, 

Here's a blessing in disguise, 
On a splendid two-pound chicken 

They are now good frying size. 

Now I have explained to you 
And I've told you this in rhyme, 

The different things the farmers do 
In the good old summer time. 


As we look upon the scene 

And view the fleeting shadows 
And see the beautiful hills so green 

Down in the woodland meadows. 
The birds they sit upon the bough, 

Our minds are pleased completely; 
We stop awhile and wonder how 

The birdies sing so sweetly. 

We listen as we go along, 

We love to hear their twitter, 
And as we listen to their song, 

From bough to bough they'll flitter. 
The one that sings to us so loud 

And seems to be so gay, 
And sits up there and acts so proud 

Is pretty old blue jay. 


They seem to think the world was made 

Just for the birdies' pleasure; 
I was glad that I had stayed 

And watched them at my leisure; 
As I walked within the glen 

I find I'm an unwelcome guest, 
For there I see the little Wren 

Fly quite swiftly from her nest. 

Next I go and take a look 

And I hear the cattle lowing 
Down beside the little brook 

Where the stream is gently flowing. 
Next my walk will take me over 

Where I find the honey bees 
Working faithful on the clover; 

As I walk he quickly flees. 

Down in the woods I take a stroll. 

No pleasure like it can compare 
I see a squirrel peep out his hole; 

He says that I'm unwelcome there. 
The sun is sinking in the west; 

Everything appears serene; 
I'm glad that I was nature's guest 

And get to tell what I have seen. 


When you're feeling all run down 
And the days are dark and dreary, 

The finest place within our town 
Is our Lincoln Library. 

The books are all arranged so neat 
And are there for us to read. 

You'll find, my friend, it's quite a treat, 
There's any kind of book you need. 

For this place I'm very fond 
And I've always had a yearning 

To read and write and correspond 
In this splendid place of learning. 

Oftentimes, dear friends, I will 

Go there to write a letter, 
Where everything so quiet and still. 

There's nothing could be better. 

The books are all placed in a row, 

Each class is to their self; 
For this is done so we may know 

To put them on that shelf. 


When you are feeling worn and worry 
And everything has lost its charm, 

Walk over to the Library 

Where everything is nice and warm. 

There's nothing like it can compare, 
And with me you will agree; 

The ladies who are working there 
Will treat you with due courtesy. 

If we find we are belated 
And it fast is coming night, 

This place is then illuminated 
With the great electric light. 

This privilege I think is great, 
So let us try and all be merry, 

And show that we appreciate 
Our splendid public library. 


I never read of nothing worse 
In all our former wars or fights 

It seems to me could be more fierce 

Than that one fought at Bemis Heights. 

On the nineteenth of September 

With a heavy Autumn frost 
The British army, I remember, 

Fought our men at fearful cost. 

Arnold galloped to and fro, 

He led our gallant troopers home, 

He led them forth against the foe, 

His gallant horse all streaked with foam. 

All day long he fiercely fought; 

They say his conduct there was fine; 
He led them in and fiercely sought 

To break that stubborn British line. 

Arnold's onslaughts were so fierce 

Upon the British right; 
He tried his best to them disperse, 

He strove with main and might. 

General Morgan, too, was there, 

He helped to lead them in, 
He very nobly did his share 

With his good riflemen. 

He had among them volunteers 
In marksmanship were drilled, 

So they could pick off officers 
And Fraser there was killed. 


It was fought through Arnold's plan, 

Although he proved a knave, 
We never could have had a man 

That could have been more brave. 

Arnold wheeled his foaming horse 
With what few troops he had 

And their position tried to force; 
They thought that he'd gone mad. 

He then with a mighty shout 
His gallant troopers thrilled, 

He rode right into their redoubt 
And there his horse was killed. 

There he forced the foe to flee, 

They quickly then did yield, 
And being wounded through the knee 

Was carried off the field. 

I know that we are Arnold's hater, 

But my dear friends, I beg; 
I know we cannot love the traitor. 

But let us love that leg. 


I heard that our poor Sister Ray 

That you were in distress. 
Before I sleep, for you I'll pray 

That God your soul will bless. 

Now do not feel your chance is slim, 

For we will pray for you; 
Just put your loving trust in Him 

And He will take you through. 

For all your friends in sweet accord 
With our dear captain leading, 

We're praying for you to the Lord, 
For you we're interceding. 

I had noticed quite a while 

You wpre not at the meeting, 
For we had missed your sunny smile 

And missed your kindly greeting. 

I pray these words will bring good cheer. 

For thev are from a friend; 
Trust in the Lord and do not fear, 

On His strong arm depend. 

I pray it won't be very long 

Before we see your face 
Giving out some sacred song 

In yeur accustomed place- 


I pray that you may soon be healed, 

That this news I may tell 
That He has been your guide and shield 

And you are sound and well. 

It's sad that you must suffer so, 

But God alone knows best; 
It's some relief for us to know 

You're numbered with the blest. 

Now, dear Miss, do not be sad 
And please excuse this letter, 

For your friends will sure be glad 
To hear that you are better. 

Before I sleep for you I'll bow 

My head in humble prayer. 
Dear Sister Ray, I leave you now 

In our dear Saviour's care. 


Comrades, how I well remember, 

On that dreary summer morn 
From my home back in the timber 

When from loved ones I was torn. 

Of course we all were volunteering, 
"For you must," is what they said; 

My mother's words were so endearing; 
Many were the tears they shed. 

For me they felt a deep devotion; 

My poor old parents' eyes were dim 
When they said with deep emotion: 

"Goodbye son, our only Jim." 

They said to always trust in Him; 

Keep this trust the darkest nights; 
We believe He'll save our Jim 

As He did the Israelites. 

Keep His presence e'er beside you, 
Trusting in a Saviour's care; 

May He ever lead and guide you 
Is our blessing, is our prayer. 

'Here is Mary," said my mother, 

"For your presence she will grieve." 
And I find that here's another 
It is very hard to leave. 

She said, "The place will seem so dreary. 

Oh, Dear Jim! What shall I do?" 
I said, "Dear sweetheart, don't you worry, 

I am coming back to you." 


As I held her pretty hand 

She said, "My love, remember me 

When you're in that foreign land 
Par away across the sea." 

The scene it proved to me most trying 
For the day was pretty warm, 

And my friends were me admiring 
In my splendid uniform. 

I had now delayed my starting; 

I felt that I could stand no more, 
For this was the saddest parting 

That I'd ever seen before. 

Quickly then my horse I straddle. 
Then arrange my cap and plume. 

And when firmly in the saddle, 
Quickly vanish in the gloom. 

To A. E. Nissen, April 15, 1922. 

Tomorrow morning I intend 
As it has been requested, 

To show my work unto a friend, 
I then can have it tested. 

I do not claim my work is great, 
I want this understood; 

I'll say this much, at any rate, 
There's some can't do as good. 

I have never been in jail, 

Or to the Legislature; 
But writing poems I never fail, 

It's just part of my nature. 

I write my poems like other men 
Of whom I've read and heard; 

I sit right down and take my pen 
And warble like a bird. 

My friend and I together sat 
And talked without cessation; 

With him I had a splendid chat, 
I liked his conversation. 

His great influence here was felt, 
I hate to see him leave us; 

For in his talk he firmly dwelt 
And talked of our Christ Jesus. 


If we never meet no more, 

I mean to do my best; 
We'll try to meet on that bright shore, 

In that sweet land of rest. 

If I had started out when young," 

This is no idle jest; 
Who knows but I might be among 

Those men like Edgar Guest. 

In this I always take delight, 
With patience one soon learns; 

For "with your pen you soon can write 
And rhyme like Robert Burns. 

I'm glad I ever got to get, 
Acquainted, friend, with you; 

I'm truly glad we ever met, 
And now I'll bid adieu. 


The other day I was invited 

A nice meeting to attend, 
And I said I'm just delighted 

To go over with a friend. 

Sunday eve I went to meeting 

As a worldly sinner should, 
And I found a kindly greeting 

In that pleasant neighborhood. 

First, we had some splendid singing. 
There we knelt in humble prayer; 

I could hear His praises ringing, 
We could feel His presence there. 

They said: "Always trust in Jesus; 

He is with thee, do not fear; 
Trust in Him, oh do believe us! 

He is always drawing near." 

Sister Rief, she stood there pleading, 
And she had a Christian look, 

Then she read a choice reading 
From the pages of that book. 

She said if we would gain those treasures 
We would have to pay the price; 

Part of all these worldly pleasures 
We would have to sacrifice. 

Brother Boyd did some talking, 
Said we'd get that great reward 

If we'd only keep on walking 
In the footsteps of our Lord. 


The meeting then came to a close, 
For it was after four o'clock; 

We bowed cur heads in sweet repose 
And left the Shepherd with his flock. 


The finest time of all the year 

When people meet together, 
The time I think to me most dear 

Is this fine autumn weather. 

The cooling breeze it fans our brow, 

And we are through with summer's heat; 

The farmer boy is at the plow 
And the farmer's sowing wheat. 

Take your gun upon your arm — 

Of course you'll have some tired feet — ■ 

Take a stroll upon the farm, 

For rabbits now are good to eat. 

Let us get away from town, 

For in the woods the trees so tall, 

The leaves on them are turning brown, 
And the hickory nuts will fall. 

If you'll stop awhile and wait 

You will gently hear the quail 
Calling sweetly to his mate, 

And you'll hear her answering hail. 

We'll go hunting on the creek 
Where the surging current whirls; 

It won't hardly do to speak, 

For we'll want to get some squirrels. 

This great pleasure I have sought, 

The squirrels you know are fine to gnaw, 

But be sure you don't get caught, 
For it may be against the law. 

Soon we feel the wind's cold chill 
And the barren fields we've crossed 

Makes us know that soon we will 
Have a real killing frost. 

Of all seasons now for me, 

You can name them one and all; 

You can have the other three, 
If you'll only give me Fall. 


In the year eighteen and ninety-eight 

We had our war with Spain; 
It was then we heard of the terrible fate 

Of our gallant battleship Maine. 

The night was awful dark and dreary, 

After she had made the trip, 
On the fifteenth day of February 

Was when we lost our gallant ship. 

It was on April twenty-first 

That Congress voted fifty millions 

Of all our foes they are the worst; 
We'll have to whip the dirty villians. 

She was riding at her ease, 

The men had all retired to rest, 

All was quiet upon the seas, 

The Captain was writing at his desk. 

All at once an awful boom 

Was heard afar on Cuba's bank, 

Announcing they had met their doom, 
For quick the noble vessel sank. 

Oh you cruel men of Spain! 

What did you sink our vessel for? 
When you sank our noble Maine 

You knew you'd get a bloody war. 

The sailors slept in sweet repose, 

For it was after nine o'clock; 
They had no thought of any foes 

Just when they felt that awful shock. 

For all those boys you have slain 

You'll find that you cannot justice cheat; 

Prepare yourself, Oh cruel Spain! 
To fight George Dewey and his fleet. 

Our fleet advanced in grand array, 
We saw the enemy drawing nigher; 

The Brooklyn signalled for the fray 
And the Olympia opened fire. 

Cheers came from the Brooklyn's deck, 
Came the order to cease your firing; 

They are now a hopeless wreck; 
Don't cheer boys, for they are dying. 

We right there avenged the Maine 
Amid the flash of shells and bombs, 

While they played that sweet refrain, 
"See the Conquering Hero Comes." 


This dear boy, twelve years old, 
Answered to his country's call, 

But of course at first he's told 
That he's very much too small. 

He looked up pleading in my face: 

"Captain, oh do let me go! 
Let me take that drummer's place; 
I can beat the drum you know. 

"Fifer play me just one tune; 
Let the fifer play me some 
And I will show you pretty soon 
How little Eddie beats the drum." 

"Boys like you are never sent; 

The Union would be doing wrong. 
Mother must give her consent 
Or you cannot go along." 

He answered quick, with this retort. 
With his little face aglow, 
"I am now her sole support, 
She has said that I may go. 

"My father, Sir, is dead and gone. 
For his presence she now pines; 
She is now left all alone, 

He died in the Union lines." 

On that morning I had come 
To look for little Edward Lee; 

I could hear his little drum 
Calling forth the reveille. 

I followed that familiar sound 
And went direct to that ravine, 

And there, dear reader, there 1 found 
The saddest sight I'd ever seen. 

I saw his little eyes had fell 
And with tears begin to fill: 
"Do you think, Sir, I'll get well? 
That poor fellow says I will. 

"Although I wear a suit of blue, 
I can here most truly say 
There is not a heart more true 

Than that poor heart beneath the gray. 

"He saw that I was badly hurt, 

To stop the blood he surely tried, 
He tore off his only shirt 

And bound my legs before he died."* 


He looked up at me so sweet. 

"Oh, carry me," he gently begs; 
'A cannon ball took off my feet; 
You see I'm minus both my legs." 

I took him up upon my horse 

And I could feel his panting breath; 

I saw that he was getting worse, 
He then was in the throes of death. 

With him, of course, I hurried on, 
To save his life I vainly tried; 

The little fellow soon was gone. 
He nestled to my breast and died. 

Thus died poor little Edward Lee 

With fevered brow and burning cheek; 

Thus died our boy from Tennessee, 

Who perished there at Wilson's Creek. 


If you a sinner long have been, 

Oh make some Church your choice; 

For our Lord will save from sin. 
And will make your heart rejoice. 

Let your Christian life be humble. 

Firmly trust and always pray; 
And do cease to growl and grumble, 

When some trouble comes your way. 

Keep on now yourself adjusting, 
Let His loyal banner wave; 

Live by faith your Saviour trusting. 
For our Lord is sure to save. 

In your prayers don't look for raptures, 
To appear within your hand; 

He who strives, is he who captures, 
This Salvation true and grand. 

Always pray and seek for power. 
For to live to please your God; 

Trust the Lord that He will shower. 
Blessings where His path is trod. 

Oh poor sinner! do believe, 

Let me now these words impart. 

Try not the Saviour to decieve; 
But let Him enter in your heart. 

We are taught that God is Love, 

Let us now our part fulfill 
And we'll gain that home above, 

If while here we do His will. 


Oh poor sinner! keep on trusting, 

You your noble task pursue 
And your trials He'll keep adjusting, 

For you as He says He'll do. 

If you will confess your sins, 
You will get them all forgiven; 

For you'll find such conduct wins 
A sweet home high up in Heaven. 

Christ the Lord, will blot them out, 

If you from sin will sever, 
And cleanse your soul from fear and doubt, 

And pardon you forever. 

If you will His word accept, 

You'll find Salvation's free; 
For His promise He has kept, 

Through all Eternity. 

If your soul to Him you'll give, 

And walk the path the Saviour trod; 

He will help you then to live, 
To be a worthy child of God. 

Oh trust Him and try Him, 

Come now, my sinner friend; 
You must not now deny Him, 

Let His Great Love descend. 

He says He'll give you power and strength, 

For full and free Salvation; 
And with His grace you can at length 

Resist all vile temptation. 

Take Him and His word obey, 

In your Saviour fully trust; 
Bow your head and learn to pray, 

Die we will, and die we must. 


This poor ailing darling daughter, 
All was done for her they could; 

But it seemed the medicine bought her, 
Never did her any good. 

Her husband spent his money free, 
He tried his best her life to save; 

He said he could not bear to see 

His poor wife lowered in her grave. 

She walked around in awful pain, 
She day or night could get no rest; 

She tried her best her health to gain, 
She had a cancer of the breast. 

Pretty soon that Darling Daughter, 
Felt that death was drawing nigh; 

Then forthwith back home they brought her, 
There she learned that she must die. 

Then they gathered 'round her bed. 

For they saw death drawing nigh; 
Many were the tears they shed, 

With broken hearts they said goodbye. 

She said she saw a burning hell, 
And she was asked if she was there; 

She answered, "With my soul 'tis well, 
I will God's blessings get to share." 

Then she grew both still and calm, 
And said, "I see my great reward"; 

And then she said to Maud: "I am 
Going forth to meet my Lord." 

Dearest loved one, death has cheated. 

And you go beneath the sod, 
But we know you'll soon be seated, 

On the blessed throne of God. 

When they saw all life had fled, 

In that room a silence fell; 
With tear-stained eyes and sobs they said, 
"Darling Carrie, fare you well." 


In these lines I now intend, 

And will try with great research ; 

I will try and tell you friend, 

What occurred at Shiloh Church. 

The "Rebs" were waiting for VanDorn, 
Little had our troops surmised; 

On that splendid Sabbath morn, 
That they would get so surprised. 

General Grant was sorely pressed. 

By that eager Rebel horde; 
The Union troops they gave no rest. 

For fast the Rebel's cannon roared. 

The Union troops kept falling back. 
The Rebels followed their retreat; 

And pressed more firmly their attack. 
So as to make their rout complete. 

And there harassed by shot and shell. 
The Federals made a gallant stand: 

'Twas there that S'dney Johnson fell. 
And General Beauregard took command. 


This one fact was not neglected, 
And this the Rebels had to meet; 

The Union troops were there protected 
By the gun-boats of their fleet. 

In killed they gave a fearful toll, 

They fell back to the river; 
For many a true and gallant soul, 

Ascended to its Giver. 

The battle still was held in doubt, 
Still on the Union troops they bore; 

The Union troops then heard the shout, 
Of General Buell's Army Corps. 

Buell's troops came with a yell, 
Their wings they were expanding; 

The southern troops they did compel 
To give up Pittsburg Landing. 

The south put up a gallant fight, 

I say with perfect candor; 
But they were left in sore plight, 

For they lost their commander. 

They got the better of the fight, 

This fact the north abhors; 
For they had fought with main and might, 

And captured many stores. 

A gold medal he should wear, 

And by this emblem we should know; 

The man who nobly did his share, 
In the Battle of Shiloh. 


Dear Precious Lord, I come to Thee, 
Most humbly on my knees; 

Oh come now, Lord, and comfort me, 
Oh do, dear Saviour, please. 

As I now before Thee kneel, 
My sins to you confessing; 

Dear Lord, I cannot help but feel, 
I'll get Thy sweetest blessing. 

Thou hast told us. Lord, to seek, 

And we shall surely find; 
It was only just last week 

The soldier's pledge I signed. 

I ask Thee now to be my guide, 

And keep me in Thy way; 
Do. precious Lord, be by my side 

And help me while I pray. 


Lord send Thy great redeeming Love 
While in my bed I slumber; 

And when You take Your Saints above, 
May I be of that number. 

We know that you the dead did raise, 
Oh let Thy light now shine; 

And 1 will give Thee all the praise, 
If Thou wilt cure my spine. 

Dear Lord, do send Thy power down, 

And aid in my distress, 
And wilt Thou give Thy child a crown, 

Dear God. of righteousness. 

My precious Lord, I suffer and groan 
With a crippled hip and spine; 

But I am proud my Lord I can own, 
Count me one of the ninety and nine. 

Now take me on Thy loving breast, 
Where the river Jordan flows; 

And may I have that peace and rest, 
When Gabriel's trumpet blows. 

Keep Thy presence drawing nigh, 

Depart from me no never; 
Oh, let me dwell with Thee on high, 

And sing Thy praise forever. 


Dearest Edgar, friend of mine. 
As I've learned your address, 

I have some talent in your line, 
This fact I now confess. 

For your work I'm very fond, 
I think it's just sublime; 

And I thought I'd correspond 
With you today in rhyme. 

I rate you as the greatest man 
In all this world of nations 

So I'll do the best I can 
And send congratulations. 

This work is trying on the brain 
For I must do my best 

If I would try to entertain 
A man like Edgar Guest. 

In this work I take delight; 

I wanted you to know it. 
That's the reason that I write 

To this world's greatest poet. 


I think your work is simply grand, 

The best we read today; 
Your work is great throughout the land, 

So all the people say. 

Your work is felt in Christian homes, 

To this they now confess, 
For I see your splendid poems 

Are full of righteousness. 

If I had started out when young — 

I now am forty-two — 
With luck I might have been among 

Such useful men as you. 

You see that I am getting old 

Along life's weary ways, 
But by friends I have been told 

My poems deserve some praise. 

I know I cannot write at all 

Compared to men like you; 
I know that I am very small; 

Those men that can are few. 

I am proud that we can own 

You in this land of ours; 
I hope your path is always strewn 

With fragrant-smelling flowers. 

Sometimes when I read your rhymes 
My heart will glow with pride; 

I know I've wished so many times 
I could be by your side. 

I hope your kind regards I'll earn 

And earn them for all time; 
Will you write me in return 

And write to me in rhyme. 

I cannot estimate your worth. 

Such talent you was given; 
If we cannot meet on earth 

I hope we'll meet in Heaven. 

May we in that land abide 

In that sweet land of rest 
And be together side by side 

With you, Dear Edgar Guest. 

Now I will end this little task, 

As I am out of tune, 
By kindly stating that I ask 

My friend to answer soon. 


The crimes committed by the Huns 
It seems to me were never worse 

Than when she stood before their guns 
That poor faithful English nurse. 

Just remember, dearest Edith, 
As you face the firing squad, 

That your gentle Saviour leadeth 
You direct to meet your God. 

We'll avenge the dear Miss Cavell: 
You their taunts and jeers have borne, 

We'll unite with General Neville 
And we'll make that nation mourn. 

O thou noble English martyr! 

You had nothing to regret; 
May we call you Belgium's daughter, 

The noblest girl we ever met. 

For your life your friends have pleaded, 
But they saw all hope was gone; 

For their words were never heeded, 
For their hearts were turned to stone. 

She partook of sweet communion, 
Then prepared herself to die, 

Prepared herself for that reunion 
With her Saviour in the sky. 

O thou noble-hearted Edith! 

Thou hast surely reached the goal. 
On Christ's love thy spirit feedeth, 

For they could not kill the soul. 

From your cell you then was led 
And you acted brave and grand, 

So the German doctor said. 
As they took you by the hand. 

Thou wilt long remembered be 
Of thy deeds we'll always tell; 

We hope some day your face to see. 
Dearest Edith, fare you well. 


I know that I should not have done it, 
But that day we'd marched so far; 

You'll know by my little sonnet 
What I 'as executed for. 

That fatal night, it was a beauty, 
And the stars were shining bright, 

When I 'as told on picket duty 
Watch the foe on yonder height. 

I took the place of little Bennie 
There alone to watch the Hun 

And I know there isn't many 
That would do as I have done. 

I had promised Bennie's mother, 
On her knees for him she prayed 

That I'd be to him a brother 
And would always give him aid. 

Grant me leave to write some letters, 

Give me light so I can see; 
Will you please remove these fetters 

So my hands will both be free. 

Dearest mother, put on mourning, 

For your darling son is lost; 
I'll be shot at early morning; 

Shot for sleeping at my post. 

Poor little Bennie now is pleading, 

I'm so sorry for the lad; 
For me now he's intercpding 

For to perish in my stead. 

One great thing that gives me pleasure. 

Although my fate before me lies, 
That helps uplift me in a measure. 

They've promised not to bind my eyes. 

Now he's led before the men. 

Tell me, what is that we hear? 
A horseman coming down the glen, 

He is swiftly drawing near. 

The prisoner looked, his hope revives, 
For he has something in his hand; 

We see the horseman now arrives 
And hands it to the chief command. 

His mother need no longer grieve 
For she'll get back her noble son, 

For he carried a reprieve 

From the Chief at Washington. 


The best paper to my mind 
To me its very plainly clear 

There's none better of its kind 
Than our own State Register. 


When I first came to Springfield 
I saw the news its pages lined 

It quickly to me then appealed, 

The beautiful printing looked refined. 

If you really ever had 

A chance to use it all adults 

Just please go put in your ad. 
And you'll quickly get results. 

News can happen anywhere, 

Even far across the sea, 
And it very soon is here 

Hanging out where you can see. 

It is strictly up to date, 

You'll find nothing there corrupt; 
The best paper in the State, 

A great public backs it up. 

It has a splendid circulation 
And these words are only fair. 

It has made its reputation 
Just by being on the square. 

The editor is not prejudiced, 
You see this work is really his, 

You can tell he isn't biased, 
He prints the news just as it is. 

In case of any great event 
The very thing that we desire, 

The news is very quickly sent. 
We get it fresh from off the wire. 

The people all will stand outside 
By the hundred and will cheer, 

That's why I am so satisfied 
With the good old Register. 

As our paper goes to press 

Let us give three hearty cheers, 

For I wish it great success 

For it has served us forty years. 


The first battle of the war, 

The Battle of Bull Run, 
Is what these lines are written for 

To tell you what was done. 

Old Beauregard and Johnson, too. 
They led the southern forces; 

They'd got a view and well they knew 
The northern troop's resources. 


McDowell said to Patterson, 
"You hold Joe Johnson's Rebels back; 
The people's come from Washington 
To watch us launch our grand attack." 

Pretty soon this news was heard, 
The Union soldiers' faces paled, 

And then Joe Johnson's troops appeared, 
Our General Patterson, sir, has failed. 

'Bring more men," cried General Bee, 

"Press more firmly your attack; 
Bring more troops, for don't you see 
That we are being driven back?" 

Old Stonewall said, "I this discern," 
And he their forces firmly met. 

'You'll see right here the tide will turn, 
For we'll give them the bayonet." 

You ought to seen the people's faces 
When they saw the Union yield; 

They quickly cut their horses' traces 
And they fled from off the field. 

They round the northern general drew 
And from there made an exodus; 

They said: "Oh, sir, what shall we do?' 
He said: "Die like the rest of us." 

The southern troops were in high glee, 
But there they lost a noble son, 

They lost the gallant General Bee, 
Who fell before the field was won. 

More troops were rushed upon the field 

By Kirby, Smith and Early; 
Then back the Union forces reeled, 

Their roift was seen most clearly. 

Johnson gained that victory, 
He that glorious day had won; 

And they tell me that he 

Promptly threatened Washington. 

Throughout the South they gave applause. 

I've said the Northern forces ran, 
But I'm not holding with their cause, 

For I'm a loyal northern man. 


Now, dear friends, to you I'll tell 

If you'll only to me hark, 
For I'll tell you what befell 

That poor girl, Joan of Arc. 

To relate the awful scenes 

Is a job not very pleasant, 
About this maid of old Orleans, 

This dear little humble peasant. 

It was when out herding sheep 

These commands came from the lord: 
"On your war horse you must leap, 
You must now take up the sword, 

The English now are on your land, 
With your troops you must advance; 

I will guide you by my hand 

For you must now deliver France." 

This dear maid forthwith did go, 
Her Holy mission seemed serene. 

And hurled herself upon the foe 
At the age of just eighteen. 

This maid with a mighty stroke 
With her sword she set them free, 

Delivered them from England's yoke, 
She led them forth to victory. 

She advanced Avith banner flying. 

For the foe was being driven 
And to their general she was crying, 
"Surrender to the Lord of Heaven." 

Jealousy in the French there grew, 
For her fame they were afraid; 

They gave her up and the English slew, 
Thus perished that true and noble maid. 

One more verse it now is seen 
Right here is all I need to make; 

For she perished at Rouen, 

For thev burned her at the stake. 


I have a booklet from a friend 
And with a few quick glances 

I now will try and will defend 
Those martyred men of Kansas. 

When they started in this fight 

I now can plainly see. 
They were fighting for their right. 

The rights of liberty. 


That cruel law they gave a rap, 
They said they'd not be slaves; 

They would not bow the ducal cap 
To Allen and his knaves. 

They're like those gallant men of old 
Who said they would be free; 

Who went aboard, so we are told, 
And dumped that Boston tea. 

When this law they did defy 
The thing we most abhorred 

Was the position taken by 
Our own Executive Board. 

Poor Howat now will serve his term, 
Our board some nerve did lack, 

Instead of standing with him firm. 
They stabbed him in the back. 

I sure do admire his nerve; 

He went back to his cell, 
The man who will his sentence serve 

Has proved a William Tell. 

If we would our rights possess 
We'll stand for freedom's cause 

And thus avoid great distress 
By bowing to their laws. 

I now this fact to you reveal, 

We pretty soon will learn 
If they don't this law repeal 

It soon will be our turn. 

I give these miners my applause 

In standing for the right; 
If we would protect our cause, 

I tell you we must fight. 


There's nothing in the world so sweet, 
My love for them I often tell; 

A home in fact is not complete 
Wherein no little children dwell. 

I remember when I led 

Them, when first they tried to walk; 
I remember what they said, 

When at first they learned to talk. 

Let us give them lots of pleasure, 

Let us help them to be gay; 
For they are earth's holy treasure, 

Let us please them at their play. 


If they need to be chastised, 

If you do this, do it mild; 
For I don't think it's very wise 

To spare the rod and spoil the child. 

These words right here I truly say, 
Whatever else that you may do; 

If they are taught they must obey, 

When they are grown, they'll honor you. 

The sweetest pleasure ever had, 
To see them at the window pane; 

There standing looking for their dad. 
The first glimpse of him to gain. 

A good example we should set, 
To do like us is their delight; 

True knowledge from us they should get, 
They think what parents do is right. 

Sometimes we watch in silent dread. 

If we loose them this must be; 
For you know our Saviour said: 
"Suffer them to come to me." 

Before I close, I will repeat, 

While in this wide world I roam; 

Never is a home complete 

Without children in the home. 


I will now express my feeling 

While in this wide world I roam; 

Sadness comes right o'er me stealing, 
When I think I have no home. 

I care no more for earthly joys, 

I am in this world alone; 
When I think of my three boys 

From my lips escapes a groan. 

All these thoughts of course annoys. 
And they always give me pain; 

When I think of my three boys, 
Little Clyde and Lyle and Wayne. 

My wife was fickle and false hearted, 
For she broke her marriage vows ; 

It seemed all goodness had departed, 
For none of this the Lord allows. 


I wander up and down the street, 
Wondering where on earth to go; 

I meet some people dressed quite neat, 
But hardlv anvone I know. 

But I will make the best of things. 
For Christian people often tell; 

And this great thought a joy brings, 
Jesus doeth all things well. 

(Written from a Picture.) 

The prettiest picture ever seen, 
Or ever viewed in all my life, 

Is of this man and country queen, 
This man and babe and darling wife. 

I am struck on this sweet Miss, 

And I'd really give a farm; 
To have a lady just like this. 

To take me gently by the arm. 

I would be in sweetest bliss, 
'Twould be like heaven above; 

If I could take this lovely Miss, 
And give to her my love. 

The sky above is pale and blue, 

The grass beneath a lovely green; 

And if you'll notice in the view, 

The beautiful flowers grow between. 

As you look upon their faces, 

It seems they're free from every care, 
I never saw no other places, 

With this picture would compare. 

She has a basket on her arm, 
It's in the balmy summer days; 

She has an air of faultless charm, 

This picture sure deserves some praise. 

To me this young man is a stranger, 
With his rake upon his shoulder; 

He seems to tell her there's no danger, 
That he would ever wish to scold her. 


He seems to say he loves her still, 
These words she loves to hear, 

And he means to sure fulfill 
His promise made to her. 

This lovely lady's waist is red, 
This young man's pants are blue; 

It seems they talk of when they wed; 
Of love so kind and true. 

You see the love in her sweet eyes, 
Oh, give me thoughts like this; 

These beautiful thoughts she can't disguise, 
These thoughts of heavenly bliss. 

It seems there's nothing else they need, 

You see she's now a mother; 
For there's nothing could exceed 

Their love for one another. 

He was wise to ever choose 
This lady so sweet and fair, 

I feel if I were in his shoes 
I would be a millionaire. 

The bonnet that she wears is blue, 
The young man's feet are bare; 

And you will notice in the view 
There's beauty everywhere. 

Now, as I end my little poem, 

1 have no hesitation 
To say this picture in the home, 

Is best in all creation. 


From a friend I've had a call 
And his request implies 

That I should now explain to all 
My blessings in disguise. 

I cannot work like other men, 
For I'm an injured miner; 

But since I've learned to use my pen 
There's nothing could be finer. 


After I my health did lose 
I thought I'd missed my goal; 

What occupation could I choose, 
If I could not dig coal. 

'Obey your Lord's Divine commands,' 

A gentle voice then said. 
'If you cannot use your hands 

You now must use your head. 

'Go, walk the path your Saviour trod, 
Though injured you have been; 

If you want to serve your God 
Go now and use your pen. 

"You cannot work but you can write, 

And what you write will thrill; 
Go «bear My cross and spread the light, 
Go forth and do My will." 

In that Salvation Army hall 

One night I was enticed; 
White there I then obeyed the call 

To serve my Lord and Christ. 

The standard of my book is high, 

This fact no one denies; 
And it will be to those who buy 

A blessing in disguise. 

I now consent with sweet accord 

My Saviour to obey; 
For if we trust our precious Lord, 

He'll guide us on our way. 

Since I have to this city moved 

It's plain before my eyes 
That all my trials have surely proved 

Sweet blessings in disguise. 

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